Secrets In the Packhouse

I woke with my heart already racing.

The bond had chased me through the night, Kael’s eyes, the pull in my chest, the mark heating like a brand each time I whispered two nights. When dawn finally touched the ridge, I hadn’t rested. I just lay there, staring at the ceiling, arm over my eyes, breathing like I’d run up the mountain.

I checked my palm. The mark had cooled, but it still glowed faintly if the light hit it right. I pulled my sleeve down and flexed my fingers. The skin there felt too thin, like a secret pressed against glass.

The packhouse swelled with morning noise, doors, boots, low voices, the clink of dishes. I left my room and slipped into the hallway. Wolves were everywhere, moving with purpose. Thornridge mornings were always busy with,  patrol rotations, kitchen duty, and training schedules. The air smelled like smoke, stew, wet wool, and a hint of antiseptic from the infirmary. It was familiar, safe. It felt like home.

Yet, none of it calmed the storm inside me.

“Rhea.”

My father’s voice cut across the hall.

Alpha Caden Thorn stood near the long table with two warriors. He wore a plain dark shirt, sleeves rolled, forearms marked with old scars. He wasn’t the biggest wolf in Thornridge, but he filled more space than anyone. His aura was powerful. His gaze ran across the room, daring anyone to question him.

Every wolf close enough went still.

I stepped forward. “Good morning, Father.”

His eyes swept over me from boots to face, hard and fast. He wasn’t looking for dirt or slouching. He was looking for tells. My skin prickled. I tried to breathe slow.

“Kade said you were out late,” he said. His tone was even, but the words had weight. “Past the quarry.”

I kept my face calm. “I needed air.”

Kade was across the room near the hearth, trading orders with a patrol captain. He didn’t look over. He’d told the truth because he wouldn’t lie to the Alpha. He hadn’t said where I’d actually gone. Not yet anyway.

My father studied me a second longer. He could smell lies the way some wolves smelled rain. My throat felt tight. The mark on my palm buzzed like a trapped fly.

Finally he gave a short nod. “Don’t make a habit of it. Blackthorn patrols have been testing our lines, they’ve been getting closer and closer.”

“I know.”

“You’ll join training,” he said, already turning to the maps spread on the table. “And then come back here. We have a war meeting after lunch.”

“Yes, Alpha.”

He dismissed me with a look, then bent over the map with his warriors. They marked edges with charcoal, moved pins, listed supply counts, salt, rope, bandages, extra coats. Winter had a bite, and so did war. We needed to be prepared for both.

I stood there one heartbeat too long. He didn’t look up again.

A hand tugged my sleeve. Mari slid in beside me, with her brown hair braided back and eyes bright. “Walk.” She whispered.

We slipped to the door and into the yard. Snow clung to the edges, thin and gray, cleared in the center where wolves sparred. The training master, Rook, barked orders while pairs circled, ducked, and lunged. Everyone’s breath steamed in the cold frost. Blades flashed dull in the winter light.

Mari hooked a loop around my arm. “You okay?”                

“No.” I frowned.

“On a scale of one to you-made-a-deal-with-a-devil?”

I blew out a breath. “Two nights.”

Her mouth flattened. “You’re really doing it.”

“I told him I would.”

“And if you didn’t? Your body would drag you there anyway.” She looked at me sideways. “You don’t have to justify it to me. I’ll be there.”

“You can’t,” I said. “Its neutral ground. I have to meet him alone.”

She snorted. “Sure. And I’m a fern.”

We walked the line of the yard. The timber fence looked the same as always and the Dark Pines beyond looked the same as always. But every sound seemed sharper. Every face felt too knowing. I was being overly paranoid.

Kade strode out of the packhouse and cut across the yard toward us. He didn’t shout. Kade never shouted. His anger sat low and hot, like banked coals. His eyes were darkening with every step he took towards us.

“We need to talk,” he said.

Mari exhaled. “I’ll grab us tea.” She cut away before Kade could object, quick on her feet, she took off without so much as a glance back.

Kade stopped a step from me. He held himself tight, jaw locked. “You should have told him.”

“I won’t,” I said.

“You can’t hide a mate bond from an alpha.” He spread his hands, his breath harsh in the cold. “He’ll smell it. He’ll see the way you move. He’ll feel it in the air around you like I do.”

I flinched. “You… feel it?”

Kade’s mouth twisted. “I don’t need to feel it to know a disaster when I see one. But yes. It’s… there. It skims off your skin. It’s not super noticeable yet, but it’s there, plus I saw you with him!”

Shame flared hot and useless. “I didn’t ask for this.”

“I know,” he said, voice softer for half a second. Then it hardened. “But you’re choosing what comes next.”

“I’m choosing more time.” I lowered my voice. “We are meeting at the hunters’ chapel. Its neutral ground, where there will be no packs, no blood or death. Then… we decide what happens net.”

“Decide?” he repeated. “There’s nothing to decide. You sever the bond.”

The word bit. I fought the urge to cover my palm. “What if it fails?”

“Then we try again.”

“Kade—”

“What’s the alternative?” His control cracked. “You accept him? You think your father will let you walk into Blackthorn territory? You think Blackthorn will welcome our Alpha’s daughter into their den? You think the council will bless it?” He shook his head once, sharp. “No. You sever it, you deal with the pain and you move on.”

“And if it breaks me?”

His eyes wavered, just for a moment. “You’ll still be here.”

That was Thornridge, boiled down. You survive and keep breathing, even if it hurts.

“I won’t tell him,” Kade said, like a man choosing a path that would cost him. “Not today. But you have forty-eight hours. After that, if you don’t end it, I will go to the Alpha. He’s my commander. He’s your father. I won’t let this fester, the longer you wait, the worse it will be.”

I stared at him. “Forty-eight hours,” I repeated.

He nodded once. “Make it count.”

Rook’s whistle split the air. “Rhea! You’re late.”

I jogged to the center of the yard. Rook tossed me a dull-edged training blade. I caught it, breathing deep to steady my hands.

“Pair with Lena,” Rook said.

Lena stepped forward. She was broad-shouldered, her dark hair coiled at her nape, gaze cool. She’d been a soldier since she could shift. She didn’t smile, she was cold, she nodded but that was the only acknowledgment I got.

We circled. She pressed first, there was a quick slash, fast step back, she was testing my skills. I blocked and reset my stance. The world shrank as I focused on the blade and her feet and my breath. It felt good to be focusing on something that made sense. Training was easy you move or get cut.

“Faster,” Rook called.

Lena feinted right, then hooked left and tapped my ribs hard enough to bruise. “You’re somewhere else,” she said, hard and gruff.

“I didn’t sleep.”

“Sleep after you stop bleeding.”

We went again. I adjusted, anchored, and found a rhythm. I let the chaos in my mind slip to the back of my mind. When you fight, your body decides what matters, the angle, distance, and balance. I dropped under her swing and tapped her shoulder. She grunted approval.

We traded hits until my arms burned. When Rook finally called a break, I bent, hands on my knees, taking in deep breaths. Lena was a tough opponent.

Lena handed me a water. “You’re strong,” she said. “But your mind is all over he place. You need to quiet it or it will drag you down.”

I took a drink. “Is that supposed dot be advice?”

“Depends if you listen.”

She walked off before I could answer.

Mari reappeared and shoved a steaming tin cup into my hands. “Tea. You’re welcome. Also, your father wants you after training. He’s gathering at the war table.”

My stomach dipped. “Wonderful.”

“On the bright side,” she said, bumping my shoulder, “you swing a blade like you’re a pro, you’re distracting everyone with competence.”

“Lena thinks my head is chaos.”

“Lena’s head is a locked room with a chair and a knife, she lives and breathes this stuff. Of course, she thinks everyone else is unfocused .” Mari leaned in. “We’ll get through today. Keep your sleeve down. Keep your face calm. If the Alpha asks you to track the perimeter, say yes and touch nothing.”

“I hope that is enough to keep the mark hidden and undetectable.”

“Me too.” Mari said with a half-smile tugging her lips.

Training ended with many bruises and a cold sweat. I washed fast and changed my shirt, pulling my sleeve low again before heading to the Alpha’s room.

The war room used to be my mother’s sitting parlor. After she died, my father moved in maps, weapons racks, and a heavy table big enough to hold a bear. He left her window and her chair untouched. Sometimes I caught him looking at the chair like he hated it for holding a ghost.

He stood at the head of the table when I entered, three warriors were on his right, Kade, Rook, and Mara, who ran supplies. On his left were two scouts and a healer, Sela. Every face turned to me. I shut the door and took the open spot across from my father.

“I need a report,” he said without preamble.

I recited the perimeter notes from last night, the ones I was allowed to have. Broken branches near the west trail, old tracks iced over, the sense of movement in the pines that might have been deer or something else. I was careful not to mention the river or Kael.

“Blackthorn increased their night sets,” said Tern, one of the scouts. “Three pairs spotted at the north bend.”

“They’re testing us,” Rook said.

“They want to check our line,” my father said. “We hold steady, no stunts, no shows. Stick to the shadows and don’t let them know were onto them.” His gaze skimmed the table. “We are not the pack that roars to hear our own echo.”

Plans moved fast. We set up rotations, supply runs, spare blankets for the young. We had to give quiet instructions for elders to stay inside after dusk. It was the normal work of preparing for war and for the cold to get worse, and my father handled both the same way, count the supplies, plan for war, endure and survive.

“Rhea,” he said, turning to me. “You’ll take the second patrol tomorrow with Kade.”

My chest tightened. Tomorrow was the night before the chapel. “Yes, Alpha.”

“We’ll sweep south to the bend,” he continued. “I want to see that perimeter with my own eyes.”

Mari sat in the supply seat as Mara’s runner. She didn’t look at me, but I felt the warning spark between us. The bend, the river... My father wanted to walk the place where my entire life had tilted.

“Yes,” I said again. My voice didn’t shake but my hands did.

When the meeting broke, Sela, the healer, touched my elbow. Her palms were always warm. “You look pale,” she said. “You need to eat more and get more sleep. The cold takes a lot out of you, especially when you’re already low.”

“I’m fine.”

“Hmm.” She watched me like she could hear my fear. “Come see me later if your heartbeat keeps going a million beats a second.”

“It won’t,” I said too fast.

She nodded like she’d  given me a chance to lie and I’d taken it.

I slipped out and found a dark corner near the back steps. I leaned into the cold stone and let my head hit it once, lightly. The mark thrummed under my skin like a hidden drum. Two nights. My father’s patrol, the bend, the chapel. My head started to hurt and everything went fuzzy for a moment.

A shadow slid over the snow pulling me back to the present. Lena again.

She didn’t speak for a moment. She just looked at me the way soldiers look at possible threats or possible friends.

“It’s not my business,” she said finally. “But if you are hiding something from the Alpha, hide it better.”

I lifted my eyes. “Is it that obvious?”

She tilted her head. “Not yet. But something is off. You smell… different and your distracted.”

Different. The word landed clean. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about Lena.”

She stepped away, then paused. “Be careful at the bend.”

My skin crawled. “Why?”

“I found some tracks,” she said. “Some are familiar and some aren’t.”

She left without looking back.

By evening, my nerves were going insane. I ate with Mari and Kade at the end of the long table, hands wrapped around a bowl more for heat than hunger. The hall hummed with voices. Wolves traded gossip and jokes and threats about who would outrun who tomorrow. If paranoia snuck in and anyone looked at me longer than usual, I told myself I imagined it.

Halfway through the meal, my father stood. The hall quieted. He didn’t have to raise his voice.

“We lost three wolves last winter,” he said. “We won’t let that happen again. We have trained harder. We will hold our ground. We do not give Blackthorn a reason to call us careless.”

He lifted his mug. “To the pack.”

“To the pack,” everyone echoed.

I drank, throat tight. We belong to each other, he had told me when I was small. I still wanted to feel close to my father but I couldn’t tell him the truth.

After dinner, I helped Sela carry a crate to the infirmary, It has some cloth, herbs, and glass vials that clinked when the floorboards creaked. The room smelled like pine and sharp mint. Two cots were empty. One held a boy with a sprained wrist and a fever. Sela checked him, then turned back to me and wiped her hands.

“Hold out your hands,” she said.

I froze. “Why?”

“To see if you’re cold or sick.”

I forced my face neutral and showed her my left hand. She took it, frowning at my pulse. “Other one.”

I hesitated, then lifted my right. My sleeve had slipped up an inch. The edge of the crescent mark glinted like a thin scar catching light.

Sela went very still.

She didn’t look at the mark full-on. She looked at my face instead. “You need sleep.” she said, voice flat like a plank. “And privacy. I’ll tell the kitchen to send you broth later.”

I swallowed. “Thank you.”

“Rhea.”

I met her eyes.

“Whatever is going on…” she said, each word slow, careful, “don’t let it ruin you.”

I had no answer for that. I left before anything else could be said.